


First is the Worst

by spoon_spoon



Series: Home, let me come home. (Home is wherever I'm with you) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (kinda), Abusive Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injury, MOTHER AND FATHER DEAREST ARE GOOD PEOPLE IRL, Mirrors, NOTHING ROMANTIC HERE IF I SEE ONE SHIP COMMENT ITS ON SIGHT, Panic Attacks, Sad and Happy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Tubbo is now a member of SBI fight me, Verbal Abuse, Written mostly at 2am, imposter syndrome, tubbo gets injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoon_spoon/pseuds/spoon_spoon
Summary: Suddenly he was six again. It was winter, and the medal from the science competition he had just won was hanging around his neck. It’s shiny gold reflecting the ice, both on the ground and in his parent’s eyes. It hurts? Why does it hurt? The medal is so heavy on his neck, and the fabric band presses into his shoulders. The gold isn’t shining anymore. When he looks down at the medal in his hand, its shape is barely even rounded. Everything around him feels distorted and wrong, and the gold is burning and melting into his skin.
Series: Home, let me come home. (Home is wherever I'm with you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140410
Comments: 32
Kudos: 513
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	First is the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Here is the sequel many of you asked for, although probably not the sequel anyone expected. Thank you all so much for such wonderful comments on Blood, Paper, Heart. I promise pure fluff is coming soon enough. Huge shout out to Malachitowykon, they are the best for staying up to beta this. Please heed the tags, and as always, this is all fictional. If any CC's are uncomfortable I will take this down.

“I’m just a pawn, and this is a checkmate.”

Tubbo knew exactly how that line sounded as the words left his lips. Even if they were supposed to be for his character, he couldn't deny that the phrase hit a little too close to home.

It’s not as if he had problems at home, he knew Tommy was in good hands with Phil now, and his parents were somewhat supportive. Yet, he couldn't help but feel as if he just couldn't be enough.

Tommy was blowing up on Twitch and YouTube, and Tubbo couldn't be prouder of his best friend; but if Tommy was so successful, why couldn't he do that too?

Tommy even said it in the script, Tubbo was the sidekick, the best friend, the supporting role; he was never the hero.

Part of him loved it. He was someone’s second half, not a soulmate per se, but a twin flame, friends, bound together despite fate and time.

Yet, it somehow felt that time was pulling the two friends further and further apart. They were only a year apart, and the days between birthdays and holidays seemed to stretch on and on.

He’d been streaming with Ranboo more, it had started when Tommy went MIA for about a week, and then it had turned into something of his own. Ranboo was nice and funny, and a little like the older brother Tubbo never had. Plus, their differing timezones accommodated both of their horrendous sleep schedules nicely. He was smart in all the ways Tubbo wasn’t, but their shared sarcastic sense of humor made the two of them click nicely on and offline. He’d stream with Ranboo whenever he had a chance, it messed up his usual schedule, but it can’t go too wrong.

Tubbo knew something was genuinely wrong when he realized that he had forgotten the days of the week. He was doing online school for a semester; the schedule allowed him to finish more schoolwork faster. He told his parents it’s because he wanted to graduate early, but really he just wanted to stream more.

He can’t help but think about how proud they looked when he said that. His mother’s eyes lit up, and his father was so excited to hear that he had plans for his future beyond moving in with Tommy and streaming.

Tubbo’s father, father dearest as the chat calls him, was always happy to see his son's passion for streaming. However, the man was equally open to his fears about what would happen if streaming didn’t work out. He would sometimes try to discuss it with his middle child, reminding him of the days he dreamed of being a doctor or an astronaut. Really just any career where you got a degree and were able to find a job.

As much as Tubbo hated hearing it, he knew his father’s worries weren’t unfounded, streaming was risky, and he wasn’t the best out there.

His mom was kinder about her worries, but the walls in their home were thin. He could hear her late night whispers, asking the universe to remind her son of the child he used to be.

The child who, despite his dyslexia, would take to school like a fish to water; he would win medals and competitions, entering gifted programs and difficult classes with ease. Sure he wasn’t the best at spelling, and he never really had classmates his age, but his mom looked so happy when he showed her his report card, so it didn’t matter. His opinions didn’t matter.

The pride in his eldest sister’s eyes when she had seen the size of the trophy he had won in a science competition, even if it was the only time she looked at him. The kind, yet distant, words from teachers and relatives kept him hooked on academia. He loved to learn, and audiobooks could teach him all the world had to offer. Even if he never honestly had a best friend, he didn’t need to worry about the plastic necklaces the girls in his primary school traded. He had his real gold medals from science fairs and trampoline competitions.

Even when his dad told him he should quit trampoline because it took time away from his science projects. Even when leaving, it felt like tearing the wings off his back and replacing them with clouds where feathers used to grow.

The kind words and bright smiles took his mind off the pain. Everyone was so proud of him; he was their bright little boy. Whenever his parents brought coworkers around for a meal, he would show them his trophies. The impressed look on their faces didn't erase his own confusion, but the proud remarks his parents made were enough for him to bury his feet in the ground.

By the time he had hit secondary school, he had cleared enough credits to graduate in about a year, but he chose to take regular classes. Figuring he could try to make friends and delay his existential crisis by a few years. Just because he could do his A-Levels and university early didn’t mean he wanted to. However, the look on his mom’s face when he said that he would rather take it slow was almost enough to have him reconsider.

He knew that Lani would need to go to college too, and even if it wasn’t a huge expense like in the states, by going early, he may save his family some money as they would only have to worry about one child at a time.

And there it was, Tubbo would shuffle himself around trying to make it easier for everyone else, who cared about the ache in his shoulders; it is just the weight of the sky. He could just tune the pain out. He had work to do anyway.

Tubbo excelled in science and math classes, and his parents always wanted a doctor in the family. So here he was taking A level Biology, Chemistry, as well as Statistics and Calculus. He thinks it’s Tuesday, and he probably should be streaming, but he has too many hours of notes to catch up on. The brunette sighs and looks down at his green colored notes, somehow it’s 3 am, but he can’t stop working now; that’d be a death sentence for his GPA.

By 6 am Tubbo had finished the work for his easiest classes and moved on to history and literature. He would usually bother Tommy for help, but he was offline, and the only other person he knew was good with those subjects was Techno. Asking Wilbur would inevitably lead to a discussion about politics, and even though he was interested, he wouldn’t have time for that now. His classes started at 8 am.

In short, he was fucked. He needed to keep his grades up; his parents already didn’t love him streaming, any excuse to make him focus more on school would mean saying goodbye to streaming until his grades were perfect again. He already had perfect grades, but he refused to be a disappointment like his parents made him out to be.

Tubbo’s anxious thoughts were only dispelled by the alarm on his phone. It was the one he was supposed to wake up to. Lately, he’d been using it as a reminder to fake sleep in.

He sighed and pulled himself out of bed, thanking the skies that online classes don't require a camera, and threw himself into his bathroom. Showering felt like too much effort, and his parents wouldn’t be home until 7 pm, or so anyway, he could shower later.

His leftover homework wasn’t so much challenging as it was time consuming. Even with spell check, he would lose a few points here and there due to misspellings, and he honestly had no clue what they were doing in history this week. Thinking about how annoying it all was wouldn’t magically finish the work. After quickly brushing his teeth, he sat down at his desk and started the tedious assignments he had left.

Smashing down the submit button at 7:59 am had never felt more satisfying, even if the work wasn't up to his usual standard. He barely even had time to think about that, though, as he was quickly joining the call for his first online class of the day.

Around two hours in, he regretted not taking a shower. The amount of grease in his hair felt disgusting, and he could probably light it on fire if given a flint and steel. His morning rush had left sweat pouring down his back, and he had skipped breakfast too.

To make it all worse, he couldn't find his eye drops. Tubbo spent the majority of his day staring at a screen, and without his eye drops, he would be left squinting in pain by the third hour. His teacher was droning on about derivatives, and they were easy anyway. He might as well look around now.

As Tubbo dug through the drawers of his desk, he realized that it had been ages since he had looked through his own belongings. As evidenced by a collection of old primary school medals that didn't fit on the shelf on his wall. He hated that shelf; he wanted it gone. Moving them aside and trying to ignore the annoying sound of metal on metal, he dug further in. Pushing past photos of kids he hadn’t seen in ages and his old collection of dinosaur figurines, he had found them.

How they had gotten this buried in a drawer he seemingly hadn’t opened since primary school, he didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to care. His eyes were red enough, no need to actually start crying.

Squeezing the drops into the corners of his eyes and blinking, he began to feel a small amount of relief. The cooling liquid soothed the burning, itchy feeling leftover from staying awake all night.

It seemed that the universe didn't hate Tubbo yet, as Literature and History weren’t on his schedule for the day, which meant that classes would be ending around noon. He should probably try to eat lunch, but this would be the first time in ages he actually had time for a stream. If he wanted to stream, he would have to shower, though. Sometimes he wished he was a faceless streamer like Ranboo or Techno, he could have hair as greasy as an oil slick, and it wouldn't be an issue.

Sighing, Tubbo glanced back at his screen. His math class was wrapping up. If he wanted to get an entire stream in before one of his family members came home, he would have to start soon.

A few minutes later, Tubbo had finished the last of his notes and stood up.

Suddenly he was cold, and his body felt like static. There was a whine playing in his ears. Faintly, he thinks that the pitch might be a C, but his years of musical training aren’t useful here. This isn’t a piano; he can simply stop playing.

Grabbing on to his chair to steady himself, he shakes his head. He doesn’t have time to feel like shit right now, and it seems as if the moment has passed. A deep breath and a few seconds later, the short boy again makes his way over to the bathroom.

Tubbo can’t remember the last time he showered, maybe Thursday? The days were meaningless anyway. As long as he was turning in his work on time, he would be okay.

He barely left his room anymore anyway. He had a jack and jill bathroom that he used to share with his older sister. After she moved out, the bathroom became his alone.

Grimacing at the smell of his old clothes, he tries to ignore the voices in his head whispering just like his mother does.

“Oh, what a useless child, he can’t even shower anymore.”

“Shut up.” Tubbo isn’t sure why he’s speaking out loud; it’s not making his head any quieter.

“Look at him, all that wasted potential.”

The whispers sounded like his father now. The same father who built cases for his science fair trophies but almost threw away his first Twitch check.

“Just be quiet!”

Okay, he was definitely glad that nobody was home. Talking to yourself while shirtless in the bathroom would be a pretty hard thing to explain to anyone else in his life.

“Oh, you’re still doing that Twitch thing? I thought you would have wised up and grown out of that by now.”

His older sister now. Growing up, she would tell him myths and legends from a big book on her shelf. Her favorite was always the labyrinth. She liked how Theseus saved everyone from the minotaur. He could never pick a favorite.

“Just stop talking,” he was half shouting now. Hopefully, the neighbors wouldn't be too concerned.

“Oh, Lani darling, get off your computer. You don’t want to end up like Tubbo.”

He wasn’t sure when the tears started falling down his face. They tasted like medicated eye drops, but he was breathing too rapidly to try to spit them out. Everything hurt. He just wanted the voices out of his head. He wanted to call someone, anyone.

Tommy was going through his own things right now. He didn’t need to deal with Tubbo too. Ranboo was most definitely sleeping. Even if the older teen was awake, they had only just started talking. He had no reason to pick up.

It was midnight for Eret, and Tubbo knew he had classes in the morning, and as much as the fans joke about Schlatt, he wasn't exactly friendly with him either. Who else did he even have in his contact list? Captain Sparklez? Yeah, he could just call one of his idols having a breakdown in the bathroom. That would be a smart idea.

Scrolling through the names of people he knew, Tubbo realized something. He had nobody to call at all.

When Tommy fell down crying to the floor of his room, Phil and Wilbur rushed to his side. Who did Tubbo have? Streamers he barely knew outside of a shitty block game? What did Tubbo get? The cold feeling of his bathroom tiles on his skin as he shook. He couldn't even find a way to get himself on the floor.

Tubbo felt unbalanced. He was screaming and crying and begging for someone, anyone, to help him. He wanted someone to help him. Why wouldn't anyone help him?  
Maybe his parents were right; he should just quit streaming. It’s clear that nobody from that part of his life cared anyway. He was just a sidekick, just a pawn, only a useless child who was too stupid to see that he was being pushed around.

Suddenly he was six again. It was winter, and the medal from the science competition he had just won was hanging around his neck. It’s shiny gold reflecting the ice, both on the ground and in his parent’s eyes. It hurts? Why does it hurt? The medal is so heavy on his neck, and the fabric band presses into his shoulders. The gold isn’t shining anymore. When he looks down at the medal in his hand, its shape is barely even rounded. Everything around him feels distorted and wrong, and the gold is burning and melting into his skin.

“It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It-”

The pain is searing now, so Tubbo does what any child would do when faced with great pain. He tries to remove it. He takes the medal in his small hand, and he tosses it into the snow. It sizzles and pops when it makes contact with the cold. The pain is gone, however, and that is enough.

Then, the memory shatters.

Tubbo hadn't just thrown a golden medal into the snow; no, he had instead thrown his cellphone into his bathroom mirror.

The glass has fallen around him; his chest is scraped from the flying shrapnel. He can’t feel the pain; he is not stupid enough to question why.

In the past, his sister's favorite character had been Thesus, the great hero. It had made sense for her, she was the eldest daughter, and she would go out to achieve much for their family.

When Lani was old enough to be read to and choose favorites, she had always loved Ariadne. She had wanted to be a princess. The older two never had the heart to tell her the rest of that particular story.

Tubbo could never choose a favorite then, but he knew now who he was. He was Daedalus, the genius trapped in a maze of his own creation.

Glass shards littered the ground around him. He knew that if he was going to fall, he couldn't fall here.

In one last fit of rage, he picked up his phone, his high-quality case saving it from damage, and snapped a photo. He made a group chat with Ranboo, Phil, Eret, and Tommy, then sent the photo.

They wouldn’t care anyway. He might as well walk back to his bed and take a nap.

Tubbo’s photography skills weren’t the best, leaving this group somewhat confused as to why Tubbo had the photo in the first place.

All the camera had clearly captured was a bloodied chest and waist, with pale skin stretched thin over visible bones.

“yoooo, are you browsing pinterest rn man? because this looks like what fans use for l’manburg war mood boards” In Ranboo’s defense it was fairly late at night for him, and he had just finished doing his homework. He wasn’t thinking too clearly about the obvious low quality of the photo.

“It does look like that Ranboo, but @tubbo why did you even send this to us?” Phil had just moved an emotionally unstable teenager into his house, and he didn’t feel safe leaving this without a few questions being asked.

“dude how would someone even get that many cuts on their chest, it’s like something exploded” Eret chimed in just as Phil had finished typing, it was only just past midnight for him, and even if he wasn’t wide awake before, a text this strange had him entirely awake now.

“oi the bomb photo man has a scar on his collarbone just like tubbo lmao” Tommy’s comment reached the group chat and for a second everyone paused typing.

Tommy’s scream reaches Phil’s ears before another message hits the chat. Then the texts start flying in.

“@tubbo what the fuck please tell me that isnt you”

“@Tubbo, are you safe, do you need someone to pick you up can you tell me what happened?”

“@tubbo what happened to you? why are you bleeding why are so so skinny?”

“@tubbo i swear to god if you dont answer i will spam you until you do”  
“Phil, there’s gas in the car, I’m putting the air mattress in Tommy’s room!”

Tommy was still yelling. It was like someone had dunked his head underwater, what had happened to Tubbo? Who had done this to his best friend? He was going to fight them, Tubbo didn’t deserve any of this shit. He was always so happy, he would never have done anything to hurt anyone.

Phil was hugging him again, and he was asking him to stop screaming.

“We’re gonna get him, Tommy. You have his address, yeah?”

“I have it saved to my phone, but you’re not going without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, big man.”

Phil knew that taking Tommy may be a bad idea, especially considering the blonde’s own mental state, but he also knew that separating the two would most likely cause both of them to panic.

Kristen Watson may not be a practicing psychic, but she knows her husband and adoptive son well. The second Tommy’s scream starts to ring through the stairwell, she feels as though someone is twisting a knife in her heart. He’s only been living here for a few days, but he is one of the funniest, kindest, most interesting teenagers she’s ever met. She sees the way her husband flinches when he looks down at his phone; she hated little kids anyway; teenagers seem like a good compromise.

Phil’s wedding vows had spoken about how her heart was often too big for her body, how she was meant to give love until the world was to end. But secretly, she knew the same was true of Phil too. He just had a different way of showing it.

Once they hit the highway, Tommy spoke up again. The fog in his head cleared a little.

“Should we call 999 Phil?”

The universe had lucky timing, it seemed. Phil had recently moved closer to London in an attempt to be closer to his friends, meaning that they were only about a half an hour’s drive away. Tubbo had several cuts, but they didn’t seem that deep, and calling 999 may get more people involved than necessary.

“Not yet, but keep them on speed dial. You don’t happen to know if Tubbo keeps a spare key, do you?”

“He doesn’t keep one, but I stole his keys once and made a copy; why?”

“Usually, I’d question why you stole his keys and made a copy, but knowing you, your answer will be ‘big man reasons,’ so I’m just going to be happy you have it in the first place.”

Tubbo had given Tommy the key after Tommy’s parents came home one night when they were calling. The older boy had promised him a safe place to stay and a hug if he needed it. It was time to return the favor.

Tommy pulled out his phone again, checking the group chat once more and updating them on the situation. Ranboo still hadn’t gone to sleep, and Eret was trying to force him into sleeping for class tomorrow.

“eret I’m too scared my friend, who lives in another fucking country, is going to end up in the hospital to sleep right now.”

“I’m scared too ranboo, but we can’t do much from here, we can just hope that he’s okay”

Tommy shut the discord app and sighed; the GPS said they were only a few minutes away now. He really was hoping his friend was alright.

Tubbo had definitely not expected to hear people walking through his house when he woke up. He was even more startled when he lifted his hand to his chest and felt a mummy’s worth of bandages wrapping his upper body. The third shock came when he realized someone was in his room.

As he tried to sit up and open his eyes, pain flared across his body. Even if the cuts were small, they stung like hell.

“Hey, big man Phil said no getting up.”

“What? Huh? Tommy?”

Definitely not Tubbo’s most eloquent set of questions, but Tommy got the point.

“You got hurt, you sent that photo to the group chat, Phil and I came to pick you up. I also cleaned your bathroom, dude; you have to stop leaving hair in the drain.”

“Mmm, It’s too long, though… wait, you cleaned the bathroom?”

“Well, no shit Tubs, I wasn’t going to let you clean it when you woke up.”

“How are you even here in the first place? Am I dreaming again? The real Tommy’s got his own stuff to do, and I don’t want to bother him.”

“I’m right here Toby, you’re my best friend, basically my brother. I would have run here if I needed to.”

“Ha, you couldn’t even run a kilometer.”

Tubbo felt light headed. He didn’t think it was blood loss, maybe exhaustion, but he didn't really care. He pushed that feeling aside; Tommy was here, that was exciting. He had missed seeing the younger boy. With everything going on, they hadn’t had much time to talk. He knew that Tommy didn’t do it on purpose and was probably just adjusting to the new life he was living. But still, it hurt, and oh, he was crying again.

“Hey, hey hey, don’t cry. You’re safe; you’re okay.”

Tubbo couldn’t exactly stop crying. He had broken a mirror, and he was hurt, and his parents were going to kill him, or maybe just ban him from streaming, which meant not seeing his friends. Everything hurt again, but before he could do something, impulsive Tommy wrapped him in a hug.

“That promise you made went both ways, call your mum, ask if we can have a sleepover.”

“She’ll be too pissed about the mirror; she won’t let me out.”

“You only broke one section of it, and you have enough money to cover the cost anyway. Plus, it’s Friday. You don’t have class tomorrow.”

“Surely not. It’s Tuesday, isn’t it?”

“Tubbo, it is 100% a Friday, here look,” Tommy pulls out his phone and shows Tubbo the date, “see Friday it’s the 7th of April.”

“Happy early birthday Toms!”

“Thank you, we can celebrate with a sleepover, now call your mum.”

“Tommy, I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“They already hate me, and I broke the stupid mirror, and I’m hurt, and-”

Phil walks in, cutting Tubbo off, saying, “And they’re your parents. If they truly hate you we can get you out of here, but maybe try to talk with them first?”

Tubbo sighs; he knows that to a degree, Phil was right, and bringing up Tommy’s situation as a comeback was probably a bad idea. Calling his mom was still a terrifying thought, he can hear the faint whispers already, but he relents and picks up his phone.

It was around 12:30, thankfully his mom was on her lunch at the moment, meaning she picked up quickly.

“Tubbo? Is everything alright? You don't usually call midday…”

Suddenly Tubbo felt small again, he was hurting, and he wanted his mom to run a hand through his hair and tell him that it would all be okay.

“Hi mum, I think-, no I know I’ve fucked up really bad. C-Can you come home?”

He wasn't sure if it was the defeated tone or the audible crying, but her response was immediate.

“Toby, what happened?”

“I don't even know how to explain it. I made a huge mess of everything, and then Phil and Tommy had to come to clean it all up and-”

His breathing was picking up pace again. The room was starting to feel hazy. He wanted his mom to come home, but he didn't want her angry.

“Toby? Toby, what’s going on?”

His mother’s panicked tone was making him feel worse. Thankfully it seems that Tommy recognized the problem, and the blonde pulled the phone from Tubbo’s hand.

“Hullo, Ms. Smith, this is Tommy; Tubbo is having what looks like a panic attack.”

If Tubbo was feeling any better, he would have laughed at Tommy’s more serious tone. He didn't usually hear it from the other boy, only when he was talking to adults who didn't know TommyInnit.

“I’m going to pass the phone to Phil so I can try to help Tubbo, but I think he would really like it if you came home.”

“I just emailed my boss that I’m leaving; I should be back within the hour. You can pass me to Phil now.”

Phil reached out a hand and took the phone from Tommy, stepping out of the room so he could talk while Tommy worked to calm Tubbo down.  
Everything was still spinning, and his ears were ringing. He wanted to go back to sleep, but there was someone trying to talk to him.

“Can I touch your hand?”

Tubbo nods; Tommy’s trying to help, he thinks, might as well go along with it.

“Okay, Tubbo, I’m going to put your hand on my chest, and you're going to try to breathe with me.”

The situation was a little strange. Tubbo wasn't sure how Tommy knew this or why it was helping. But it was helping, and that's what mattered.

Eventually, Tommy had pulled Tubbo out of his panic, and the two boys were left to talk alone.

“Tommy, first of all, thank you for helping me. I know that must have been weird.”

“It's alright, and it wasn't that strange.”

For a split second, Tubbo considered asking a deeper question, something about living with Phil but decided against it.

“Can we play Minecraft?”

“Of course.”

The two boys spent about 45 minutes screwing around in a creative world, just building whatever came to mind. Tommy had even made Tubbo a little bee palace, and now they were naming bees after anyone and anything they could think of. As a jubilant laugh tumbled from the brunette's lips, a key could be heard in the lock.

“Tubbo? Phil? Tommy?”

“W-we’re in here, m-mum!” God Tubbo hated how much his voice was shaking.

Tommy and Phil were here; it’s not like she would say anything in front of them; he would be safe at least until his father came home.

“Hi, mum!”

“Hello, Ms. Smith!”

For a second, Tubbo wondered if he had made a mistake calling her. The two were still sitting in his room, and the bathroom door was wide open. Even if Tommy had cleaned most of the mess, there was no missing the giant hole in the mirror.

“Hello Tommy, Phil asked you to go see him for a second. Would you mind doing that while I speak to Tubbo?”

“Of course!”

Tommy leaned over the keyboard and paused their game, smiled at Tubbo, mouthed “good luck” to him, and walked out.

There was no place to run now, Tubbo wants to cry again, but he’s not sure what will happen if he does.

The next thirty seconds surprise him so much that if it weren't for the pain from the cuts, he would have thought he was dreaming.

“Oh, my baby boy, what have I done to you?”

His mom was hugging him, and he could feel her tears drip down his scalp. He had expected yelling, not this. Was this an apology? Sort of at least, he can hear the remorse in her words. The hot tears on his head cemented the pain she was feeling. Tubbo wanted to be mad again. He wanted to scream and shout and take her through every shitty thing his parents had done to him. She didn’t know what melted gold in her palm felt like. A part of him, a darker, more unkempt part of him, wanted her to burn too.

Yet, he couldn’t. He was willing to bet that her tears felt like tracks of lava flying down her face, and her tight hold on him was more than likely tinged with regret. Regret for not doing enough, not seeing enough, not being enough. She was his mother, she should have done better, but he could do his best not to hate her, even if he didn’t love her.

He leaned back, and pulled out of his mom’s hug. She looked surprised that he had leaned away without raising an arm to hug her back, but she let it happen.

“Sorry about the mirror.” He said sheepishly, even if everything was an emotional mess, that was still something that had to be fixed.

“We can always buy another one. I’m sorry for-”

Tubbo had promised himself he wouldn’t be angry, but the words were out of his mouth before he could think them through.

“Are you apologizing because you’re sorry, or because Phil explained to you why you should be sorry?”

If Tubbo thought his mother was crying before, she was definitely sobbing now. He wanted to step back in time and shove the words back into his mouth, but he also knew that it needed to be said.

His mother felt guilty for the pain she had caused, but it was only because Phil laid it out to her over the phone. The walls in his apartment were thin, and he had better hearing than Phil guessed. He wished her apology had come after she could recognize her own failure, but he supposed this could be the first step.

“Did you clean the cuts on your chest?”

“Oh, like you actually care.”

There it was again, the angry side of him. He didn’t like this side of himself. The one who used his quick brain to deliver devastating verbal blows, but it was still a side of himself. He would have to work on that too.

“Of course I care. You’re my son.”

“Am I really? Or am I just the family disappointment? Would I still be your son if I had chosen to stream instead of doing school too? Would I still be your son if I was bigger or smaller or anything else? Would I still be your son if I was still doing trampoline? Would I still be your son if I had lost that stupid science fair when I was six?”

They were yelling now, absently Tubbo worried for Tommy, hoping the shouting fit hadn’t triggered any bad memories for the younger boy.

“Tell me, would I still be your son if I was a failure?”

The hesitation from his mother stung more than words ever would. The mirror's glass shards could never cut as deep as her next sentence.

“I don’t know Tubbo. I don’t know because I don’t know you.”

She pauses, but he has nothing more to add. The white hot gold spilled from his lips, but now he was drained of his metal core.

“I’m a bad mother. I pushed you too far, and I never let you be a kid. I hated your hobbies and basically treated you like a showpiece. God, I should have just, just, just…”

“Just?” Tubbo asks.  
“I should have just done this years ago.”

Suddenly his mother is moving; he flinches at first, but calms when she realizes she is walking towards the wall. She’s taller than Tubbo by a few inches, but here that makes all the difference, as she reaches up towards his top shelf.

Suddenly noise fills the small house. It is the sound of trophies and medals and the glass from display cases being shattered. There is a mess on the floor, and the world is stained in shades of gold, silver, and bronze. The noise makes his head spin. The clatter sounds like thunder.

Then, she reaches for something in her pocket and pulls out a photo of their family. Tubbo was no older than 6 in the picture, and he was bouncing over the rest of the family’s heads on a trampoline.

“I never should have let your smarts get in the way of this family.”

She heaves in a watery breath and speaks again.

“Now, it’s as broken as the glass on the floor.”

“Mum, I-”

“No, you don't have to say sorry. In fact, you don't need to. I am an adult; I should have known better. All I can do now is to work to fix it. There’s going to be a lot to do before that happens, though. And you deserve better than to be stuck in this house while we do it.”

Tubbo wants to interrupt her, shout that she’s wrong and that he’s the problem. He knows that it isn’t true, but he can’t help but crave a little bit of normalcy.

“Don't look at me like that. I know that I’ve done enough wrong to make this house unsafe for you. This family needs time and a good therapist, but you also need time away from here.”

He nods, he knows that she’s right, he would have been too timid to ask for this, but it seems like the best solution for him.

“You need time to heal, and we need time to learn. That can’t happen overnight. Phil offered to take you in and,” she pauses to take a breath, “you wanted to move in with Tommy anyway, right? Now you get to do that too.”

Honestly, he was surprised that she even remembered that. He assumed she stopped listening to him talk whenever he brought up internet friends. He talked about Tommy so often though, so he guessed she would pick up some of it.

“You’re already doing online classes too, I can call you out for the next week, and then you and Tommy can start together.”

He was only a little annoyed that the adults had gone over his head with this. But he had hit his emotional limit about 20 minutes before this, and honestly, living with Phil and Tommy sounded a bit like a dream come true.

“Alright, yeah, sounds good to me.” He replied.

“I’ll send Tommy in to help you pack. I need to go speak to Phil about how long you’re staying with him.”

The next hour of Tubbo’s life is confusing as it is relieving. He’s happy to be leaving this house, he doesn’t have many warm memories left here after all, and he’s moving in with Tommy. Tommy! His actual best friend and the only person he would willingly rent an apartment with. But he’s also packing up everything he owns. It’s a little strange shoving his life into bags. His mom said to pack for a while, not specifying when he’d be coming back, but glancing at Phil for what looked like confirmation.

Eventually, by 2:30 pm, the four of them had managed to load up the trunk of Phil’s car. Tubbo’s hands were sore, and his entire body hurt. Phil would probably force him to bathe in disinfectant while the others unpacked.

“Is that everything you need, mate?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he had packed pretty much all his things, even his PC.

“Well then, we best get going,” Phil turned to look at Tubbo’s mom, “we will stay in touch.”

“See you later, Toby, hopefully on better terms.”

His mom leaned forward for a hug but pulled herself back and settled on a wave.

As Tubbo sat down in the backseat of the car, Tommy turned his head to talk to him.

“So, how do you feel about bunk beds?”

“Dibs on the top bunk.”

“As long as nobody falls off, bunk beds are fine with me.”

For the first time all day, Tubbo smiled.

Even if things weren’t perfect now; It would all be okay.

He had people who cared, no matter how good or bad he was, and they would always stick by his side. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos feed my soul, let's hope I don't starve.  
> Anyway, come yell at me on Twitter @s0upsp00ns


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